The Fate Machine ThingamaBob Incident
by Sketch
Summary: A oneshot making fun of Dornkirk- What happens when his machine thing goes haywire? Poor Folken gets slightly bashed, although he WOULD look good in leather pants.... RR!


_*A word to everyone out there- this is my December spoof fic, although it has now become m y January spoof fic. There will be slight Folken bashing, even though he's one of my favorite characters making an appearance in this fic. Please forgive me, and enjoy!*_

  
  
  


The Fate-Machine-Thing-A-Ma-Bob Incident

  
  


"Folken! You must capture the Dragon! The future is clouded! The Dragon clouds the future! Capture it, Folken! I must see the future, but I cannot, because the Dragon is clouding my vision of it! Folken, The White Dragon must be captured! Fate must be altered so that the future will be perfect, but I cannot see the future, because something blocks my view of it! It is my destiny to rule the world, and foresee the future! Folken-"

Emperor Dorkir- er, Dornkirk of Zaibach stopped in the middle of his tirade, rather irritated with the man who was supposed to be taking notes on his next assignment. _There's something wrong with that boy,_ he thought to himself. Not because the Sorcerer was tall, dark, handsome, had wings, and never showed more than 1/3 of an emotion on his face, but because his eyes seemed to have glazed over, and Dornkirk hated it when people's attention wandered when he was ordering them about. He also had a nagging suspicion that Folken had at last mastered the art of falling asleep without needing to close his eyes. There had been rumors, but Dornkirk had written them off as impossible and unlikely at first, although now he wasn't so sure....

"Folken! Are you listening to me? FOLKEN!"__

The blue haired man blinked owlishly, then straightened himself fractionally. 

"Yes, Emperor Dornkirk?" Dornkirk inwardly seethed at the fact that the man could look so composed and nonchalant by simply standing still. He put on his scariest "I'm the Emperor, you should fear me" look, glaring down at the young ex-prince.

"Why didn't you respond the first time I spoke to you? Were you paying attention?" If the man had the character to do so, he would have let out a long, exasperated sigh at this point. Folken, being the stoic person he was, blinked.

"Forgive me, my lord. There was a brief malfunction in the audio systems. A glitch that was quickly fixed, but I did not hear you at first." Dornkirk, still suspicious with Folken's smooth reply, sat a little forward in his chair, peering down at the man as best as he could, considering he was watching him from a super-sized TV screen.

"Please repeat, then, what your mission is. I'd like to make sure you got it right this time." Dornkirk could have sworn he saw Folken let out the smallest of sighs, but he had to have been mistaken. Folken, exasperated? It must have been a trick of the light.

"We are to capture the White Dragon, my lord, because it blocks your sight of the future. Without being able to see the future, you cannot control Destiny, and if you cannot control Destiny, you cannot take over the world, which is your prime objective." Dornkirk smirked triumphantly, having caught his student's bluff.

"No, Folken! MY main objective is to make a better future, one that I will rule over!" There was a moment of silence, and Folken looked down, obviously shamed for being caught.

"....Yes, my lord. Forgive me." Dornkirk nodded, then blinked off the screen, satisfied that Folken would get the mission right this time without fail. 

As the screen blacked out, Folken inwardly groaned, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands and rub the sleep out of his eyes. One, it wouldn't do to ruin his image by doing such a frustrated move, and two, it would probably hurt like Hell if he accidently poked his eye out with his metallic claw. He opted for several more blinks as he exited the large chamber, wondering what would happen if someone 'accidentally' completely obliterated all communications with the capital, and the controls got stuck on course to one of those tropical islands down south of Asturia. Hell, even the desert of Freid would be an improvement to floating around looking for his little brother and his companions. Folken allowed himself one small sigh as he stepped into the hall, ready to make a quick escape to his rooms so that he could get out of his stuffy cloak and drink some of the vino he'd managed to hide from Dilandau. He was sorely disappointed when he turned the corner only to find the pyro waiting for him.

"So what's the mission this time, Strategos? Dragon Hunting? Siege? Burning stuff? Burninating the countryside*???? HAHAHA BURN!!" Folken calmly walked past the juvenile delinquent, giving him a look as he did so.

"You can burninate the countryside _after_ I've drunken myself into a stupor, Dilandau. As soon as I'm plastered, you can do whatever the hell you want. In the meantime, I think you should lay off the internet cartoons, and do something more productive, like finding the dragon." Dilandau perked up when he heard the mention of vino, and the grin grew wider as he heard "_do whatever the hell you want_." The Emperor must have really talked his ear off for Folken to want to *admit* he was going to get drunk tonight. In a far lighter mood than he'd been in for quite some time, Dilandau sauntered alongside of Folken companionably.

"I'll be more than _happy_ to get you vino, Folken. In fact, I'll even help you drink it!" Gleefully, the boy walked along with the older man, whistling cheerfully. Folken inwardly sighed, and wondered why the Gods liked making his life so miserable.

  


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Dornkirk was happy. He'd put Folken in his place, the future was much clearer since he had the eye piece to his machine cleaned, and his beard had been given an extra seven curls today. Life was good. 

The only thing that would make the day perfect would be having the tanks in the back of his chair flushed with new solution, the wheels oiled, and the cape around the bottom washed. Then, things wouldn't be able to get any better.

Except if Folken and that spastic brat managed to capture the dragon. It was irritating, the number of times he had to tell Folken what he wanted. Did Adolphus take so long in conquering small countries? No! Did the Iron army's general keep wasting Alseidies on botched missions? No! Did Daedelus keep asking for its captain to be replaced, for fear of the place burning down? Hell no! Why was the Vione so different from the other armies? Granted, it had a man with a constant poker face and metal claw running it, and a psychopath with a fire fixation as a captain, but other than that, they weren't special. Gods, just thinking about them made his curls flatten.

He was happy to see a sorcerer's apprentice passing by the chamber's door at that moment, as he felt he could do with some more primping. Calling out to the boy, he felt his spirits once again rise at the thought of being the center of attention again. The boy, for his part, dropped the folders he'd been scurrying about with, picking them up hurriedly with mumbled apologies. The fact that the young boy was bowing every three words didn't help the cleaning of the papers, which quickly got the emperor irritated again. Barking out for the boy to leave them where they were, he bid him closer.

"Y-y-y-yes, Emp-p-p-peror D-d-d-dornkirk? H-how m-may I s-serve you?" At any other time, Dornkirk would have allowed his anger to order the boy punished, but the thought of the pampers he was about to command the boy to do stilled his frustration.

"Boy! I wish to see the future, and learn what I can of Fate! But I cannot, because the dragon is clouding my vision of the future! Without being able to see the future, Fate is clouded, which is all because of the dragon. If I cannot see the future, fate is out of my grasp, and I must be able to control fate! The dragon is interfering! I must see the future, and create my own Fate! This is my destiny! I-"

The boy in front of him was standing open mouthed in front of him, eyes closed, head lolled to the side, drool trickling down his chin. Dornkirk had the urge to kick the boy awake, however, because he was over forty feet above the knave, this was a physical impossibility. Instead, he shouted at the top of his voice, getting some pleasure in seeing the boy start, fall over, and scramble to his feet.

After giving the boy a scolding, he told him what he wanted done with his life-support-machine. The boy tried to tell him some rubbish about not having the proper training to perform those tasks, but after the threat of spending the rest of his life as a cockroach, compliments of the emperor's head sorcerer, the boy scrambled about to do as he'd been ordered.

Dornkirk settled back into his chair as the boy connected the various hoses to tanks set into the wall, very satisfied with himself. At last, he was nearing pure bliss! He looked through his Fate machine again, humming contentedly to himself, as things began to go fuzzy around the edges....

  


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"My Lord Dornkirk! Please, sir, open your eyes! Hurry, bring some vino to revive the emperor!" 

Dornkirk slowly opened his eyes as Folken's frantic voice filled his thoughts. Blearily, something told him that something screwy was going on, but his fuzzy mind couldn't tell him what, exactly. He only knew that his head was killing him, and he felt rather cold. Groping on the bed he lay upon-

His eyes shot open, now fully conscious. He was on a bed! Where was his life support system? Did that punky sorcerer's apprentice screw something up? All you had to do was plug the damn thing into the wall! Why wasn't he dead? Was he dead? And there was something wrong with Folken! But what?

"My lord Dornkirk! Thank goodness you're alright! We were all so worried when you fainted, but you will be fine!" Folken gave him a dazzlingly bright smile, and Dornkirk shrank back into the sheets in horror. The world had gone mad. Folken was emoting emotion! And.... Gods, were those leather pants he was wearing?

"Emperor Dornkirk, I am glad to see you are awake. The White Dragon has just been captured, Sir! He and his woman are waiting in the prisons for your words. Shall I execute them, sir?" Just when the world couldn't get any more bizarre, Dilandau came to stand before him, neatly dressed and without that usual crazed look in his eye. He looked sane, clean, and there wasn't a trace of smugness on his face. 

The confused old man let out a wavering breath, sitting up by his own power for the first time in centuries. He waved away the offered help of the crazy Folken and the anti-Dilandau clone, instead rising to his feet. Though he was shaky, he marveled in the freedom of movement he'd been lacking for so long but had miraculously recovered when the world turned upside down.

"I shall be fine in a moment, thank you Folken, erm, Dilandau... What happened? Why do I not remember regaining my mobility, or getting dressed in such restricting attire? When did you capture the dragon, and what of his companions? Where is my life support system? Dammit, where is my Fate-viewing machine?" 

The two looked askance at each other, Folken's emotion and Dilandau's lack thereof sending chills down his spine. Folken gave a nervous smile, obviously trying to think of a way to explain things to him. He waited grumpily, while Dilandau looked down his nose at the rest of the room, then stared off into space as Folken spoke.

"Sire, you said you no longer needed the machine, after we won the war-"

"We won the war?" Folken's eyebrow's shot up, while Dilandau sniffed derisively.

"Yes sire, it's been over for nearly three years now... are you sure you are well? Perhaps if you lie down-"

"I am perfectly alright, just answer my questions!"

"Ah, well, sire, you said you no longer needed the machine as you'd already changed the future to your liking. You recreated your mobility, crushing all the other forces on Gaia, and became dictator of the world. As for your attire, I shall speak to one of your lady wives to look into the matter-" Dornkirk's interest perked up.

"I have a wife?" Folken bit his lip, obviously very worried about his beloved emperor.

"Sire, you have over thirty beautiful women at your disposal, all of them one of your wives. If one of them has displeased you..." Dornkirk wondered at that for a moment, shaking his head in bewilderment. He caught a glimpse of the movement reflected in the mirror, and gave a cry of joy. The simpering farce of a man that was Folken in this... wherever the heck he was... mistook his cry for one of anguish, and immediately set about trying to help the emperor- no, dictator of the world.

"Sire! Whatever is the matter?" Dornkirk shook off Folken with a smile spreading across his face. While his hair and beard were still a snowy white, he was utterly delighted to find hundreds of neat curls in both- he was looking the best he had for almost two hundred years, and was astonished to see how good he looked for his age. Folken seemed confused, but stood silently, awaiting any commands that the dictator might give him. Dilandau simply stood, looking bored but slightly concerned for his master. Dornkirk turned from the mirror, a new objective in mind.

"Bring the Dragon and his woman here! I will decide their fates then." Folken gave an obsequious bow, stumbling slightly as he squeaked off to do as he'd been bid. Although it was a bit alarming to see the man who had always done such a good impersonation of living marble acting so oddly, Dornkirk had to admit, the leather suited him. Dilandau stared blankly ahead, bored as ever. The dictator smirked, some of his old sense of humor reanimating itself as the realization that he was finally mobile again began to sink into his consciousness.

"Dilandau!" The captain instantly jerked to attention, saluting smartly as he stood rigid for his orders. Dornkirk inwardly laughed in delight at this transformation in the previously slightly deranged boy, looking him over approvingly.

"I would like to meet with my.... head wife. Please bring her to me so that I might speak with her." Dilandau nodded, saluting smartly before turning on his heel and heading off on his objective. Left to his own devices, Dornkirk sat heavily down on his bed, marveling in this new and strange world he'd awoken to.

Was he truly healed? Did they really win the war, and somehow he'd forgotten the past three years events? Was he finally free to rule as he'd always meant to, free from both competing kings and death's shadow? Had he really become immortal?

His thoughts were interrupted as shouting in the hall announced the arrival of the Dragon and the girl that followed him about. He primped his beard, smoothing wrinkles in his attire and quickly assuming a languid posture in one of the room's large chairs before calling 'enter' to Folken.

The leather-clad sorcerer strutted into the room, dragging in a bedraggled boy and a blushing girl. Dornkirk's eyebrows raised at the sight- the boy he couldn't care less about, and he could even ignore Folken's impossibly clad form at the sight of the girl. Scantily dressed in gossamer-like attire, the girl's brilliant green eyes were intensely bright with tears. She bit her lip, wringing her hands in her lap. Dornkirk immediately hated the Dragon for making such a pretty girl travel around the countryside with him, no doubt tiring the girl to no end. A pity she was so dedicated to the boy- he hated the thought of executing her, but hey, life sucks sometimes. 

He raised a hand, about to issue an order to Folken to have fun torturing the two, when the girl launched herself at him, sobbing her eyes out. He blinked down at the girl sobbing on his foot, then looked up at Folken. Folken simply shrugged, although the boy at the sorcerer's feet looked enraged. Pulling on the chains that bound him, the dragon shouted out to her.

"Hitomi! Get away from him! He's evil, and he killed everyone, and besides that, you're mine, dammit! Hitomi!" She only responded by crying harder, then looked up into Dornkirk's eyes.

"Please, take pity on me! I didn't want to travel around with him- he forced me to! He made me see things that weren't really there, and forced me to tell him of the visions I saw!! I only wish to be your subject, and live in peace- there's no need for blood, and Van keeps killing everything he comes across. I knew that, if you found pity in your heart to take a girl in, I would be safe here, away from that madman." The 'madman' pulled at his bonds again, calling out obscenities and curses as he struggled against his older brother's hold. She ignored him though, her look becoming slightly coy.

"My lord, please, I beg of you. I'll do anything, if you just take me in..." She maneuvered herself in such a way that he was getting a full view of her bosom, and he felt himself go pink in response. Grinning with a leer, he motioned for Folken to take the boy away as he looked over his new 'subject'. 

She was wonderfully young, beautiful, and obviously more than willing, so he pointed to the bed, where she got up with a smile that made his blood burn. She jumped up and down, grinning a seductive smile at him as he made his way over to her. In fact, things were just about to get interesting when the door thudded open, and the girl was ripped from atop of him. The sounds of screeches and cries of anger filled the bedroom, and Dornkirk sat up in a daze, unsure as to what was going on. Two more scantily clad women were standing in the room, hands on hips and tails swishing angrily- wait a moment, how did Folken's cat girls fit into this scene? He blinked at the two irate felines wondering if he would suffer their wrath as much as the girl on the floor would.

"Naria! Eriya! What on earth do you think you're doing?" The golden one- Eriya? Or was it Naria? He never could tell the difference, not that it mattered anyway- turned to look at him, eyes softening.

"My Lord Dornkirk! Captain Albatou told us you sent for us, and it is a good thing that we got here when we did! This girl is not worthy of you, my lord! Take me instead!" The silvery grey sister slunk towards the bed in the same state of mind.

"No, my lord, please, take me! I beg you!! I can't stand it!!" The girl on the floor jumped up, flinging herself against Dornkirk.

"No! He's MINE! Go for that leather clad git, Lord Dornkirk is _mine_." This last bit of the sentence was purred out, even as it turned to a squawk of indignation when the cat girls pried her from Dornkirk's bed. Dornkirk watched in amazement as the three women fought over him, and he was about to generously say he would entertain them all when the door banged open once again, and more women poured into the room- the rest of his harem, he guessed, and thoroughly enjoyed watching the scene before him unfold. Catfights and girlish bickering all over him made him beam with pride, until they all came to the unanimous decision that he needed to make a decision.

Forty pairs of eyes rested on him, waiting for his decision of who would be the woman he wanted first. Dornkirk wondered why in Gaia's name they all suddenly looked so different and somewhat fuzzy. Was he fainting again?? NO! He couldn't!! Not now, not when he was so close!! The door banged open once more, and Dornkirk turned to look at the newest entrant, deciding she would be the one he'd choose.

  


Folken entered the room to find the emperor looking at him in a way that was not at all comforting. The older man's eyes were glazed over, and he was mumbling under his breath as the sorcerer drew closer. He stood rigidly attentive over his lord, wondering what on earth had happened in the short time he'd last checked on him. When he got close enough to the older man, however, the words that left his leader's lips stopped him cold.

"I'll take you first, then the others."

Folken, completely taken aback, was not sure he had heard right. He looked to the others in the room, and they looked equally as surprised. They all looked back to the old man, who was still mumbling and getting a leering smile on his face. Folken spoke up, trying to snap his emperor from his hazy state.

"Sir? May I inquire if you are alright? Is there something you wanted me to do?" Dornkirk looked up at him, still somewhat not with it.

"I said I'll take you first. I thought you were another woman when I heard the door open again, but you'll do just as well. Have I ever told you you look fetching in those leather pants?" Folken's face, despite his best efforts to conceal it, began to flush in embarrassment, although his expression was one of stony solemnity. Very carefully, he looked the older man right in the eye.

"Sir, I believe you are still suffering from the aftereffects of the boy's chemical mix-up. Perhaps you should rest for a bit longer; you do not seem yourself at the moment." Dornkirk, completely confused now, tried to sit up, but found that he was already in the sitting position. He then realized he was strapped IN the sitting position, because he was back in his life-support system. Confused even more, he looked around the room he was in. Not only was it NOT full of beautiful, scantily clad women, the sorcerers were all hovering about the room, looking very irritated as they tampered with the equipment. He turned back to Folken, who seemed to be in bad lighting, as his face was a particularly odd shade of red. And, he had lost the pants, deciding to return to his old attire. A pity, he mused, though his mind quickly attempted to understand the situation.

"What happened, exactly, Folken?" The sorcerer straightened, looking over the room.

"One of the apprentices made what might have been a fatal mixing of your life-support system's chemical balance. I'm afraid it knocked you unconscious, and you very likely suffered delusions whilst under the mixture's effect. Luckily, we discovered the problem before it reached a critical state, but I am sorry that such a thing happened in the first place. The boy will be taken care of, sire." Dornkirk was almost at a loss for words, so unhappy was he to hear that what he thought was his wonderful new life was actually nothing more than a drug induced hallucination. However, there were several things that he found heartening about the whole experience.

For one thing, he had never quite decided _what_ the perfect future would be. His dream had solved that; a room full of beautiful scantily clad women who wanted to do nothing more than please him whenever he called upon them.

Another thing, he knew that he had been searching for the wrong thing this whole time, and that there was a much better prize to be had than wasting time on the dragon. Turning his attention back to Folken, he put on a commanding scowl.

"Folken! I have new orders for you!" Folken raised an eyebrow; now that his composure had returned, he was determined nothing more would faze him. Dornkirk was glad to see him back to his old self- an emotional Folken would have been much more irritating and difficult to deal with than the Folken he was used to.

"I want you to forget about the Dragon. He's just a little punky brat anyway, and our time should not be wasted on someone so insignificant as him! It is not the Dragon the clouds the future, but his wench! Bring her to me, and leave the dragon- he is of no use to me, so I do not care to have him brought here. But his woman, if she was here, I would be able to see the future much more clearly because it is she, not the Dragon, which blocks my vision of the future. If I could see the future, I would be able to change fate, but I cannot if she is blocking my vision of the future, so I want you to go and retrieve her for me!"

Folken looked slightly surprised, if the eye twitch was any indication. Dornkirk would have continued at this point, but Folken beat him to it.

"As you wish, sire. I will tell Dilandau at once, though I am sure he will be most heartily disappointed. I-" an explosion, followed by insane cackling, the roar of fire, and the shouts of men no doubt attempting to extinguish the flame filled the room, and Folken stood up quickly from his bow.

"If you will excuse me, sire, I must attend to Dilandau and the chaos that he is creating." He bowed deeply again, for once happy that Dilandau was causing a scene so he could escape the old fool. He had rushed to the emperor's side, hoping to get there so that he might impede the others from reviving the old git, but unfortunately they'd gotten to him first. It was with a heavy heart that he'd come into the room after hearing he was too late to stop them from saving the man, but he went in to see if there was any hope of brain damage. Something must have gone awry, because the old coot was babbling about women and leather pants. Then, he wanted Van's girlfriend. Folken didn't really care one way or the other, but figured it might be best if he told Dilandau of their new target _after_ the boy became inebriated. He was almost out of the room when he heard Dornkirk muttering to himself again.

"... Must really see if he would wear the pants if I gave them to him, fit him so well and made him very attractive for a man..."

Folken fled from the room, deciding he'd let Dilandau burn the palace down for as long as he wanted. That settled in his mind, he went off to the Vione for another drink.

  


~Finis~

  
  


_* And THAT, my friends, is why they really decided to go after Hitomi instead of Van after episode.... whatever it was, and when Folken began to really hate Dornkirk..... _

  


_So, hope you enjoyed it, write a review to tell me what you thought! ~SLS~*_

  
  
  
  


**"Burninating the countryside" is not mine, it's from... I don't know the website, but the creator's name is "Strongbad" or something of the sort ^_^;; Not mine, not profiting, so no suing, ok? *


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